Release(84)

Tramet was feeling a bit annoyed himself. “I’m not here to try to get you in any trouble, Praxider,” he said, worried that the sergeant was backpedaling because he thought that Tramet was here as a representative of the nobility in general or the Star Chamber specifically. “I’d just like to know, honestly, what you think of the girl’s story.”

“The girl’s story?” said Praxider. “We didn’t get a chance to question the girl. She was sent back to her family. So I’m afraid she officially doesn’t have a story.”

Tramet sighed. “Surely, you’ve seen the nets. You know what people are saying. About the Duke of Risciter. Do you have any opinion about that, or are you convinced of Keirth Transman’s guilt?”

“It doesn’t matter what I think,” said Praxider, “because Transman’s already been tried and sentenced.”

“It matters to me,” said Tramet. “Please, can you spare a few moments to sit down with me?”

Praxider narrowed his eyes. “Why is this so important to you?”

“If an innocent man is about to be killed, it’s pretty damned important, don’t you think?”

Praxider considered. “All right.” He opened the door to his office, then paused. “You swear you’re not out to get me? Are you a reporter in disguise, trying to get dirt? They’ll sack me, you know.”

“I’m the Duke of Tramet. I’m here because I’m trying to decide whether or not to interfere and beg the prince not to execute Keirth Transman. But first I need to be sure he’s not guilty.”

Praxider ushered Tramet inside the office and gestured for him to sit down. “You want to save Transman?”

Tramet sat in a chair facing Praxider’s desk. “I may want to save Transman. If he’s guilty, then I won’t. He’ll deserve to die.”

Praxider settled in his desk chair and leaned forward. “Well, I’ll tell you this, Tramet. That boy had a joke of a trial. And there very well may be evidence against Risciter, considering the Star Chamber is known to protect its own. They let the nobility get away with atrocities.”

Tramet had to admit this was occasionally true. But Praxider had mentioned evidence against Risciter. “So you have seen the stories on the net? Seen that Miss Gilit claims that Risciter did the killing and that Transman saved her?”

“I’ve been doing my best not to pay attention to be honest,” said Praxider. “I’d rather not know that I helped the sector kill an innocent man.”

“Do you think he’s innocent?”

Praxider sighed. “Well, look. The knife wounds on the prostitutes are precise. Whoever killed them knew what he was doing. We also found traces of a drug in many of their systems. Something that would put them to sleep and make them pliable. It definitely wasn’t the act of someone who snapped and suddenly killed a bunch of women. It was the work of someone who’s done this kind of thing before, a methodical killer.” He leaned back in his desk chair. “Of course, there are a few things that don’t fit with that theory. Most of the bodies were killed with a single slash to the throat. It’s precise and even, yes. But the bodies of the madam and Risciter both have multiple stab wounds. We believe the wounds on the madam were issued postmortem, as if the killer was so angry with her that he stabbed her over and over after she was dead. The stab wounds on Risciter, however, were what killed him. The men, too, are the only ones whose throats weren’t slashed.”

Tramet did his best to sort through this information. “So, the alternate method of killing Risciter could point to the fact that a different killer killed him.”

Praxider nodded. “Perhaps. But the stab wounds mean that if there was another killer, perhaps he killed the madam as well.”

“You said the madam’s stab wounds were postmortem.”

“Yes,” said Praxider, “but if we theorize that the stab wounds came from the same killer, then I suppose we’d have to assume that...” He paused, thinking it over. “Risciter killed all the women, and then Transman came in and stabbed the already dead madam before stabbing Risciter to death.”

Tramet wasn’t sure he liked that theory. He didn’t want to think of Keirth taking a knife to an already dead woman.

“The truth is,” said Praxider, “the stab wounds may not mean anything at all. They happened to the men. This killer, if it is Transman, may have a fetish for killing women that way. He may only have killed Risciter because he was in the way.”

When Praxider put it like that, Tramet could see how it made sense. He nodded slowly. “I suppose it makes sense for Transman to have done this.”